winghelm

[winghelm]

please reblog this post if your muse is apart of the marvel earth-616 (earth-616) universe. in order to be included on this list you must include in the tags:

canon or oc muse

single or multi muse blog

your character’s full name ( ie, steve rogers or sam wilson )

if your muse has a verse in the mcu, please include VERSE in the blogs somewhere.

      example tags:       #canon, #single muse, #steve rogers/captain america              #oc, #multi muse, #jane doe, #verse

#( ooc. ) #[ canon / single / steve rogers (captain america) ]

[winghelm]

starredarm​:

A fatigued sigh fluttered between his lips as he heard Steve begin to lecture him. His lips pursed as he leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

“I can’t sleep,” Bucky admitted, voice low and careful, as if uttering the admission would make it any more real than what he was already struggling with. He couldn’t imagine anyone with some semblance of a conscience, no matter how dormant, would be able to do the things he did and sleep easily, if at all.

“Just… let me do it. You need as much rest as you can get. I’ve done much longer missions, with a lot more going on, and on my own. This is going to be a breeze.”

Even though he wasn’t asked, Bucky moves to offer Steve a sturdy weight to lean on as he walks. The captain might be doing a flawless job hiding the vast majority of his anguish, but the former assassin was no fool. Super soldier or not, Steve had to have been in pain.

It takes a significant amount of control not to sigh with relief when Bucky comes to offer his help. Steve isn’t used to it-- to how tall Bucky is, to how much his growth spurt has affected him (and he wonders, for just a moment, if Bucky’s physically older than him now considering the freezing), to the fact that he has him back. To Steve, it’s only been a few years since he saw his teenage partner fall into the ocean. To see him now nearly as tall as him, with wide shoulders and stubble over his lip, with crinkles in the corners of his eyes...

I wish I could’ve saved you.

<Thanks,> he mutters instead, rough and accented as his Mandarin always is.

It doesn’t sit well with him giving Bucky a whole night of vigilance, even if the way the man supports him and leads him to bed tells him enough of his strength. The sheets aren’t stellar-- they’re covered with the dust of misuse-- but Steve doesn’t have the ability to do more than swoop and slap at it a little to get the stuff out before he sits.

He looks up, eyes searching for Bucky’s own even in the low light.

<Promise me you won’t push yourself. You’re not on your own right now, either.>

#starredarm #( sta001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

starredarm​:

“Consider it me making up for the time you spent without your sidekick.”

With his arms crossed firmly over his chest, Bucky leaned his body against the counter, letting the laminate top prop him up from his hip. He gave a slight shrug at the promise not to exploit him, but in truth, he’d hoped he would. This? This was what he knew. This was what he had been trained for the past several decades to do.

It’s not like he had much else going on in his life, anyway. 

It was easier submerging himself entirely into work. He had to keep himself busy or else the mismatched flashes of memories striving to come forth would force their way to the front of his mind.

As much as he knew he’d need to address them, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to learn what the mass graves were or who the flaming balls in the sky were or even who his family was and the haunting reality that he likely outlived them all.

“You’re goddamn right I’m not letting you hold first watch,” he responded, voice unflinching despite the huffed laugh lacing his words. “In fact, I’ve got tonight. I don’t sleep anyway, and it’s more important that you get your rest.”

“You don’t sleep?” Steve asks, incredulous as he puts the glass down (empty again, drained of his second serving). “Bucky, there’s being vigilant and there’s pushing it. You aren’t...”

You aren’t a super soldier, pal. Let me take the longer shift, okay? That’s how it works.

The words stop in Steve’s throat as he turns and, consequentially, shifts the burns on his back. He takes in a sharp breath, exhales it, and then shakes his head.

“...you can have six of the eight hours. But the other two are mine.”

Steve does his damnedest not to say that like an order.

He walks again, each step slow and careful, until he reaches the doorway to the kitchen and presses his palm against it for balance. The pain is still there, even if he feels less like he’s sizzling, and Steve’s fingers curl into a fist as he regains his composure before he makes the rest of the walk towards the one bedroom he knows the safehouse holds.

#starredarm #( sta001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

starredarm​:

Bucky’s expression softened around the edges before he averted his gaze. 

Something about Steve’s admission struck a part of Bucky he wasn’t aware was present. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but it almost felt like it had reached into the most dormant parts of his mind and heart and pulled the tiniest part of himself, his real self, back into the light.

The confirmation from the captain himself that there was someone else in his past life who saw value in him…

It was almost too much.

He was grateful that Steve continued on the conversation, so much so that he almost outwardly sighed in relief. Though, he kept his composure and glanced at his companion. With a curt shake of his head, Bucky offered a kind smile. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for. It needed to be done, and I sure as Hell wasn’t going to let you go in alone.” Bucky’s gaze moved along the expanse of his back, looking over the dressing once more as he began to walk. “We didn’t have the whole picture, Steve. There weren’t supposed to be civilians. You would have been able to handle it, it just would have been that much harder.”

Swallowing thickly, his eyes moved to scan the ground before him.

“Besides, as long as I’m around, you won’t have to worry about going in alone.”

“Those’re big words,” Steve says, hand resting at the edge of the counter as the other brings the glass up to his lips. The rim resting lightly against his mouth, he keeps an unfocused gaze on the nondescript bit of wall in front of him. “...I appreciate it. And I’ll try not to take advantage of it, either.”

Bucky has a life outside of him, after all-- a life outside of being his partner, outside all this work. Steve, himself, is supposed to have a life too (the gods know Sharon’s been insisting he give himself a break), but he’ll think about that later.

For now, the water that goes down his throat is soothing. Steve finishes all of it and still goes for more.

“It might be too much to assume you’d let me hold first watch tonight, huh?”

#starredarm #( sta001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head - Dean Martin

#( noise. )

[winghelm]

hopexncarnate​:

His confusion seems so genuine Luke can’t help but sympathise. The furrow in his brow in concern for the temple’s secrecy softens into a look of worry for the lost man. He can try and get answers out of him later, but now he should make sure whoever this is hasn’t been gravely injured by whatever just happened to him.

When he tries to stand, Luke instinctually moves closer. He simply settles on kneeling next to him as he falls back down again, though, whatever’s going on with him seems to have done a real number on him.

He’s about to suggest helping him get inside. ( However, again, it strikes him how large the man is. Luke doesn’t know how much use he’ll be supporting his weight without the Force. ) His mouth shuts promptly when he brings attention to the runes. There is something strangely familiar about them. But to his own frustration he can’t seem to place it, especially not through the headache that seems to only get worse the harder he tries to concentrate on them. 

After a moment spent staring at the glyphs with nothing to show for it he shakes his head to dismiss the stubborn need to figure this out now. Instead, he waves his nearby companion over. “ Artoo , come take a look at this please . “ He’ll be able to examine them properly later, maybe even ask Yoda or Obi Wan’s input on it, for now he focuses his attention back on the stranger.

“ Can you stand ? “ He asks, he had just fallen over after all. “ We should get you inside - you must be freezing . “

The young man’s blatant silence means he either knows as much as Steve does (which isn’t much), or he does know what each glyph means, but that the meaning can’t be good. Either way, a sense of unease roils Steve’s stomach, but in the same way the stranger refuses to acknowledge the bizarreness of his arrival any further, Steve chooses to do the same.

“I’m... I’m all right.” Steve runs warm thanks to the serum, and as much as the prickling sensation that stabs along his limbs is going to be a pain to deal with, he’s been through worse. He can get up. He will get up.

“My head’s no good” -- he laughs, albeit uncomfortably -- “but at least my body’s fine.”

It’s more than fine, if he’s going to be specific about it, but he doesn’t know how to explain to a complete stranger that he’d been geriatric the last time he was conscious.

So he stands, instead.

“Nngh...”

Every time his eyes shut it’s the same blinding blue: lights exploding behind his eyelids, knives shoved into his head. Steve wonders how long he can go without having to blink.

Hand pressing to the trunk to steady himself, Steve affords the little beeping robot a look as it examines the burned shape in the ground, then turns to his apparent companion with a half-smile.

“...my name is Steve.” He holds one hand out, dirtied palm and muck under his fingernails and all. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your night, mister.”

#hopexncarnate #( hxc001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

🌹❣️This is the Amazing Person Award! Once you are given this award you are supposed to paste it in the ask box of eight different people, who, in your opinion, deserve it. If you break the chain nothing will happen, but it is sweet to know someone thinks you’re amazing inside and out ❣️🌹

dude, that’s gay.

#[ THANKS MAN I MISSED YOU I LOVE YOU ] #defyxoblivion #( ooc. ) #( save. )

[winghelm]

“ You have a CHOICE -

…

- a choice to be better “

Low activity, semi-selective LUKE SKYWALKER as chosen by Lev.  Main blog to scxndrel & darthlcrd

#[ thats my boy!! ] #( promo. )

[winghelm]

merry christmas and happy holidays @onemuseleft! i’m a little late but this is your 2017 stevetony secret santa gift. i hope you had a wonderful christmas and i wish you all the luck, happiness and success in the new year ♥

#[ wait i'm... feeling something ] #stevetony tag tbd. #( captain. ) #( futurist. ) #[ ''and steve turned around to answer without even realising'' is so on point i'm wheezing ]

[winghelm]

starredarm​:

There’s the slightest uptick to his lips as he hears the other speak up, looking back at him to catch his gaze.

“Certainly looks like it, huh? Guess there are some positives to my time in Russia after all, ” he said as if he were truly able to reminisce with the other. It was strange, knowing who he was before the fall and yet knowing next to nothing about what made him him.

He hated that his life was stolen from him and that his memories were stifled.

Did you know you just shouted in Mandarin?

The question always echoed in his head whenever he was conscious long enough. It was the moment it had become evident that his conditioning was compromised and the cryochamber became his home between missions. Still, in spite of the silent vow to hunt down any and all of the bastards that did that to him down, he wasn’t going to allow it to tinge the moment with Steve.

He needed to think of something to say, and fast.

“Namor would be glad there’d be one less thing for me to be carried with.”

Namor? Why did he say that name? Why did he know him? Most importantly, why did the teasing feel so personal? Was he remembering more?

Steve doesn’t miss the uncertainty that flickers on Bucky’s face, the clear conflict. What he remembers must not be whole, but instead of speaking of it, all he does is press his lips together and nod.

“He knew your worth,” he says, the thought of their old ally making him feel his age-- or, perhaps, how much time had passed without his age-- more than anything. “Couldn’t say as much, with the ego, but he did.”

His fingers flex, his toes wiggle, and Steve gets up from where he’d been seated, the shift in muscles making his burns scream even through the brief respite of the salve. His eyes shut, but a clench of the fist keeps him from calling out; they can’t risk the safehouse, and though he’s sure no-one’s outside, it never hurts to be careful, war or no war.

When he exhales again, his breath comes out in a cloud of fog.

“But while I’m expressing gratitude... thank you for coming with me,” he says, moving from where he’d been seated to find a glass in the cabinet. He brings it with him to the sink, each step deliberate to keep from moving the rest of his torso too much, and brings it under the faucet to draw water. “I didn’t expect you to volunteer, but I’m glad you did.”

A soft chuckle. “Clearly I wouldn’t have managed this on my own.”

#starredarm #( sta001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

starredarm​:

He hated this, the uncomfortable silence with Steve. 

Bucky might not remember much, but he remembered enough to know that it was never this quiet whenever they were in a room together. Though, he knew he was most of the blame. Even if Steve were to attempt some sort of conversation, it’s not as though Bucky would know how to carry it anymore.

Granted, the reason for the silence was the only thing that made it bearable.

Steve’s wounds were some of the worst he could recall ever seeing on him, and Bucky’s concern for his friend significantly outweighed the unease of the stillness in the air.

Bucky found he was more fazed by the wound than he thought he would have been the moment he laid eyes upon it. Though, he supposed it was because of who was wounded rather than what the wound was. It was amazing, how well Steve held himself together as he worked. The pain was obvious in the way he held his shoulders squared off and his body tensed with each touch, only reminding him all the more to be delicate in his touches.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered in an almost timid voice when he heard the sibilate. After another moment, he swallowed thickly and added a meek, “Almost done, I promise.”

Despite the urge to rush through the rest so the captain could finally relax, he knew he needed to continue with caution. And so he did as he began to dress the burns, keeping an eye on the rest of Steve’s body language to ensure he wasn’t hurting him more than he couldn’t control.

The apology makes his chest tighten, but this time there’s a touch of sadness with the guilt. Steve shakes his head all the same.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he says, voice calm for all that his muscles go tight at the first brush of bandages to his wounded flesh (gods, he hates being hurt). “I appreciate the comfort, though.”

And then, again, there is quiet, but Steve tells himself that maybe Bucky needs to focus, and he can’t very well do that if he has to have a conversation while he patches him up.

It feels like an eternity until the bandages are wrapped around his body all the way. The relief from the salve is good, though, and combined with the serum in his blood, Steve figures it’ll be three nights at most before the burns are gone completely.

Once Bucky finally tapers the bandages off, he takes in a deep breath that comes out in a gentle release. His shoulders roll, easing muscles that’ve gone stiff, and after he tilts his head from side to side, he turns to look over his shoulder with a tiny lift of a smile.

“Thank you,” Steve says-- kindly, honestly. “You've gotten less jumpy about wounds, huh?”

#starredarm #( sta001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

#( captain. ) #[ i can have one (1) shirtless post of PB on my blog. as a treat ]

[winghelm]

Though there’s a nod of thanks in Iron Man’s direction for his proactivity in contacting Stark, Steve finds his mouth twitching in the faintest amusement at his rather on the nose observation of their last enemy.

“You always pick the strangest things to focus on,” he comments-- not maliciously, mind you, but more to make an observation of his own. He doesn’t hate it (most days); it’s these differing thought processes that make the team set-up capable of accomplishing things he couldn’t manage on his own, after all. But considering Steve’s mind is running through the details of their last battle to compile a list of strengths and weaknesses for later, it amuses him that Iron Man’s chosen to talk about... names, of all things.

Hands on his hips, Steve tilts his head back to look up at the mansion, but only because he doesn’t want to give Iron Man the satisfaction of seeing the little smile on his face.

“...I suppose you’re right.”

Hopefully he won’t regret agreeing with the guy.

“But with all the enemies that’ve appeared over the years, it’s probably gotten harder to come up with anything unique.” A beat. “And, uh, ‘cool’.”

Not that Steve knows much about what’s “cool”. (It’s fine.)

@winghelm liked for a starter

“Don’t think we’ll be seeing the last of them, but it’s a start.” Iron Man landed on the lawn outside Avenger’s Mansion, voice modular working to give every word a vaguely metallic sound that at least shielded his, Tony’s, identity. It should have been stranger than it was, that they had just finished fighting the Masters of Evil, yet another Super Villain group on just another ordinary Tuesday afternoon, strange that the two heroes could work seamlessly side by side, and yet neither one of them had ever seen the other’s face. But it was just the way things had always been; Tony couldn’t say he “got” the Cap’s outfit choices, but he fought well, and face or no face, Tony had learned to trust him. Anyway, they were both keeping their secrets. 

“I’ll call Mr. Stark to bring in the clean up.” Repairs on the latest destruction to the city were going to cost a fortune, but that was the role Tony had given himself: Tony Stark, the Avengers benefactor, who lent out his “body guard,” Iron Man, when the city needed him. “Is it just me or are the bad guy names getting weirder? Screaming Mimi? Really?” The villain in question had still packed a punch–or rather the sonic blast of her voice packed a punch. But if any more bad guys popped out of the woodworks, they were going to need cue cards. 

#[ hi i love YOUR blog #also thank you so much for this #also i've missed the bodyguard story in 616 tony so i just-- thank you ] #invncibleiron #( ivi001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

@starredarm​ sent: ❛ patch . help my muse patch up a wound . ► FROM LOUD & DEAFENING SILENCE

It’s always the weapons. Always. Steve’s hardy-- always has been, even before the experiment-- but his skin isn’t invincible. As easy as it is to pretend he isn’t hurt when he’s got adrenaline pumping through his veins, pain slams into him like a train like it would anyone else once that adrenaline fades.

That, and the slightest guilt that Bucky has to suffer for his stupidity.

His ruined suit is off to the side, a huge rip in its back from the bomb that nearly got him. He’s lucky his helm’s otherwise unscathed (if that were ruined, he’d have to head back to base to get it fixed), but the operation could’ve been better overall. Then again, considering he and Bucky haven’t worked together in decades, never mind the fact that they’ve both got awful constitutions of memory, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised they aren’t quite as seamless as they once were.

Still, Bucky had been able to protect the civilians from the blast with Captain America’s shield. The burns on Steve’s back are, as always, worth having in comparison to the alternative.

It doesn’t stop him from hissing as Bucky’s hands apply the salve on his injuries. It hurts, and he’s not impervious to pain, and his burns are bad. Steve had only just stopped smelling like barbecue maybe a few minutes earlier, grotesque as that sounds, and while he’ll heal relatively quick, it doesn’t make the sting and the faint feeling of being cooked any less painful.

Steve’s hand curls into a fist where it rests on his thigh, but he stays obediently still. Sweat drips down his cheek, though.

#starredarm #( sta001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. )

[winghelm]

hopexncarnate​:

Yavin 4 is a moon filled with life. Life that Luke is always vaguely aware of through his connection with the Force. It used to overwhelm him, but now it’s more of a soothing constant that he draws on during times like this, where he lays awake at night with nothing to do but just let the energy flow through him.

It’s as such that when a piercing anomaly strikes through the normally serene familiarity that it hits him like a punch in the face. Alarmed, he immediately jumps out of bed. An act that his head only protests further with a wave of nausea. Apparently, whatever had just happened Artoo had picked it up as well, because he could hear the droid’s alarmed beeping outside getting more distant. 

Of course he would immediately roll headlong into whatever danger was sure to present itself. Luke has half a mind to grab his lightsaber and pull his cloak on before he runs after the little astromech.

Whatever he’d expected to find at the centre of the sheer feeling of wrongness through the Force that was giving him such a headache, some regular looking guy is certainly not it. Well, regular looking isn’t exactly accurate. The man is build. But he seems just as confused as Luke is, maybe even more so.

“ It’s okay . “ Luke whispers down at Artoo as he places a hand on his dome to calm him down, clipping his lightsaber to his belt with the other. He can’t sense any malice from the man, but he can’t make much out through the lingering pain in his head. Now regarding the intruder, he asks. “ Are you alright ? “ Ignoring the stranger’s question in favor of his own, carefully stepping closer.

“ How did you get here ? “ He then adds, because the location of the temple is a secret he’s only shared with Leia and Han. The fact that he’s just come crashing in is a deeply concerning one.

Steve’s body clenches, seizing up with uncertainty as the stranger comes forward. The kindness in their tone is enough to keep him from bursting into a flight or fight reaction, at least, but it isn’t enough to make him feel any less out of his element.

“I don’t...” His fingers curl into the dirt beneath him. “I don’t remember.”

The neighbourhood, the girl, Bucky, Sam. Details mess themselves up in Steve’s head, shades of varying blue exploding behind his eyelids when he shuts them. They’re bright enough to make it feel like a needle’s been slammed through his skull, so he raises one of his hands to press his palm to his forehead as he lets out a slow exhale.

Once again, his eyes open. “I’m sorry.”

This close, it occurs to him the stranger has a face under the hood-- a face that looks, as far as he’s concerned, very human. Steve tries to find enough balance to stand, but as his ankles slip and he ends up falling flat on his back, it’s only then that he realises the ground beneath him is warm.

That has him rolling onto his side, his forearm in the dirt to keep him elevated, and the new angle exposes the pattern singed into the earth: roughly shaped like him, it looks like, and smelling of burnt grass. Symbols he can’t understand decorate the outline of his landing like ornaments on a Christmas tree, the glyphs sharp and varied in shape.

Steve swallows again. “But maybe that has something to do with it.”

#hopexncarnate #( hxc001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. ) #[ a special tag???? JUST FOR ME??????????????? #as long as it's not ''himbo'' ]

[winghelm]

If they were going to play the blame game, in the end it would be Steve’s fault, wouldn’t it? If there was no such thing as a super soldier in history, nothing that went beyond the normal capacities of a human being, then the enemy wouldn’t have changed either. It’s chain reaction after chain reaction after chain reaction-- a cycle that can’t be broken-- but Steve has been at this too long for saying things are his fault to be anything less than an empty platitude.

So he shakes his head. “I don’t think we fight like this because we want to. Trying to solve a problem someone else started doesn’t make it your fault. Not entirely.”

The ghosts that cling onto him whisper in his ear, still. Steve takes a deep breath.

“You want to put your energy in something? Take that building” -- he makes a gesture with his right arm towards the less destroyed one -- “and check for casualties. I’ll check the other one” -- his arm bends the other way, jerking back -- “and we’ll meet back here in ten minutes. How about that?”

@winghelm​: “No, you don’t need to blame yourself.”

Kwannon gestured at the somewhat-devastation surrounding them: unconscious bodies at their feet, a half-burned out building, and she was pretty sure they weren’t going to get their deposit back on the rental. This hadn’t turned out to be a good day for anyone. “Who exactly should I be blaming, then? Please, tell me.”

#psyknife #( psk001. ) #( thread. ) #( ic. ) #[ bless ;_; thank you #also do let me know if i need to change anything about this!! ]

[winghelm]

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .   mature  themes  present ,   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .   gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse .  ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .    ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

→     𝐈𝐕 .    NSFW

❛   surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse . ❛   pin .   push  my  muse  against  a  [ wall,  table,  other ] . ❛   go down .   go  down  on  my  muse . ❛   choke .   intimately  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   belt loops .   pull  my  muse  closer  by  their  belt loops . ❛   skinny dipping .   go  skinny  dipping  with  my  muse . ❛   rip .   tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛   mark .   leave  a  mark  on  my  muse’s  body  [ specify where ] .

#[ please dont send unless you intend to turn it into a thread! ] #( meme. )